For All She Knows

by Beck, Jamie

  “We understand, and I have no problem with a quick, fair settlement,” Sam said without consulting me.

  “I’m not convinced,” I countered. “How can we make that decision before you review all the evidence, interview people, and talk to the doctors?” I shut my mouth to stop my emotional babbling.

  “We won’t,” Mr. Bergen assured me while checking his own notes. “This incident happened recently, but you have up to three years to file a claim. We often wait to allow latent injuries and such to come out.”

  “But then we’d have to liquidate assets to cover all these costs now and get reimbursed later, which mitigates my only real motive for doing this,” Sam interjected.

  “True.”

  Sam frowned and turned to me. “Our case is weakened by the law. Bills are piling up now. I say we file and settle quickly on something fair, not push for a windfall. The doctors should be able to provide a good estimate of the average costs.”

  “I can’t believe any jury would deny Carter a recovery. And what if there’s a new medical complication after we settle?” I turned from Sam to Mr. Bergen.

  “We can discuss your options as we get up to speed,” Mr. Bergen replied, and then went on to talk about homeowners policies before asking for more detail about Mimi’s history with hosting parties, and about the bullying that had been happening leading up to the party. Every answer I gave only deepened Sam’s disapproving glare, even though I’d been nothing but honest. Had he forgotten that Mimi made it clear she wouldn’t hesitate to point out Sam’s and my negligence? Why was she allowed to protect her interests, but I couldn’t protect ours?

  Still, a hard lump formed in my stomach. I’d heard through the grapevine that some of my friends had canceled appointments with Mimi. This lawsuit wouldn’t help with that. Her insurance premiums might also go up.

  “Okay, so let Callie and me dig into this information, the police reports, and make some calls to your son’s doctors. Once we have a better handle on things, we’ll regroup and draft a complaint.”

  “While all this is happening, what do we do . . . or not do?” I asked.

  “Go about your lives and take care of your son. Given your small community, I recommend you minimize contact with the defendants until this matter is settled. Definitely don’t talk about the incident or the case with anyone.”

  “That’s not a problem.” I speared Sam with a look. His jaw tensed, and everything about his expression said that he didn’t like me much today. Was this the look my mother had spent her whole marriage avoiding? Would she say it had been worth it, given how much it had ended up costing Margot and me? A year or two from now, would I say the damage to my relationships had been worth it if Carter got compensated? “We won’t do anything to jeopardize Carter’s case.”

  “Well, unless you have other questions, why don’t you let us get the ball rolling. We’ll be in touch once we are ready to file the suits.” Mr. Bergen stood up, so the rest of us did, too.

  “Thank you so much,” I said, shaking his and Ms. Ridgeway’s hands.

  Sam followed behind me by several paces, as if coming too near would burn him. We said nothing to each other until we hit the elevators. Sam stood opposite me, his back to the wall, his eyes on the overhead number display.

  Oddly, I didn’t feel as good as I’d hoped I would after this meeting. Even a big win wouldn’t change the work we had to do with Carter, or with each other. And this move practically guaranteed the loss of the dearest friend I’d known. The pain of that hardened like a kidney stone and would surely be as painful to pass.

  “I wish you could bear to look at me,” I said softly.

  His gaze fell to mine. “I’ve got nothing more to say. We don’t agree on how to proceed, so I think we wait until Mr. Bergen does a little digging. Maybe once he has a better handle on things, his advice will change, and then we’ll have something new to discuss.”

  “Fine, but in the meantime, please don’t make me out to be the bad guy.”

  He swiped a hand over his face. “Just answer me this. Is this really about what Carter needs, or is this about what you need?”

  His words were razors at my wrists, draining me of blood. I could barely find my voice. “Everything I do is for our kids. All I need is for you to show me a little support.” I turned away and faced the elevator doors as they opened. I bolted out, rushing my steps while fishing for my keys, holding back my tears.

  “Grace . . . ,” he called.

  My first instinct was to run, but I made myself stop. “What?”

  We stood two feet apart, neither of us smiling or speaking. Finally, Sam said, “Tell Carter I’ll call him after his therapy session.”

  “Sure, but I’m also going to tell him that the lawyer said he shouldn’t keep texting with Rowan. He’s probably already tried to make Rowan feel better and said things like ‘It’s not your fault,’ which could be used against him now. In retrospect, we probably shouldn’t have allowed Mimi or Rowan near Carter.” Another thing Sam had done unilaterally.

  He looked at me with genuine dismay. “But Carter’s attitude has improved since he started texting with Rowan. Isn’t keeping him upbeat about therapy more important than how we pay for it?”

  “Carter is working with world-class therapists. Do you honestly think his recovery depends on a few texts from Rowan Gillette? And what was the point of paying lawyers for advice if we don’t plan to heed it?”

  He looked at me for what seemed like a long time, but I didn’t see any hint of him reconsidering his position. If anything, he looked defeated, which wasn’t my goal. I’d hoped logic and the lawyer’s opinions would put us on the same side. Wrong. Again. “I hope this mess gets settled soon so we can focus on bringing our son home and reconnecting as a family.”

  The only thing we did agree upon.

  “So do I.” I did reach for his hand this time, but his remained limp in mine, so I released it. My heart fell to the ground, too.

  The mistrust in his eyes was another punch to the gut. We made it to our cars without speaking. Normally, he kissed me on the cheek before parting, but today he simply said, “Give Carter my love. I’ll see you at home tonight.”

  I nodded, watching him get into his car and drive away while an icy wind raced up my legs and made me shiver.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  MIMI

  Friday, February 12

  A Cut Above

  “Hey, Mom.” Rowan showed up after his first day of work at Stewart’s Grocery Mart while I blew out Madison Albright’s hair. He’d ditched his overnight bag by the door and slumped onto one of the chairs near the register.

  “Hey there.” I turned off the blower. “I need five more minutes.”

  He nodded and promptly opened his phone without asking about Vicki’s whereabouts. She’d left early, claiming she didn’t have any appointments after four o’clock. I prayed she wasn’t putting feelers out for a new landing spot before I could shore things up around here.

  Madison said, “Your son’s so grown-up.”

  “Time flies.” I finished spraying her hair and then handed her a mirror so she could see the blunt swing of the back. “Gorgeous as always.”

  “Thanks, Mimi.” She smiled appreciatively.

  I whisked the stray hairs off her cape before removing it. When she went to grab her coat and purse, I turned to Rowan. “How was work?”

  “Boring.” His mood matched the flat gray February sky.

  “That’s surprising. Didn’t you see a lot of people you know and keep busy bagging groceries and collecting carts from the parking lot?”

  “Exactly.” He barely raised his head. “Boring. And one lady yelled at me because I didn’t notice how she’d organized her groceries on the belt. Like it matters what stuff goes in whatever bag.”

  It did matter, but I had to pick my battles while we were still feeling our way through new rules and expectations. “This is why it’s important to study hard so you can find a job that
isn’t boring.”

  “I don’t need As to play football.”

  “Football careers only last so long, honey.” Assuming he made it to the NFL. I hoped so, but anything could happen. “Speaking of school, how’s your history research paper coming?”

  He held the phone down for a second. “Fine.”

  Hm. Since Grace had put the kibosh on the boys’ conversations, I wasn’t so sure.

  Madison came out of the coatroom and handed me her credit card. “Any plans this weekend?”

  Valentine’s Day was this coming Sunday. I flushed, thinking about Rodri. The age difference still made me squirmy, and I had no interest in giving anyone something else to discuss behind my back. “Quiet time at home.”

  “Maybe next year you’ll meet someone special.”

  I handed her back her card after running it through the reader. “Maybe.”

  Madison was putting a cash tip on the register when a thin young man with crooked teeth entered the shop. I didn’t often cut men’s hair, but I’d take anyone these days. He glanced at my son before speaking to me. “Are you Mimi and Rowan Gillette?”

  “Yes.” His asking about Rowan threw me. I narrowed my eyes, systems on alert.

  He whipped out two envelopes and laid them in my hand. “You’ve been served.”

  With a brief bow, he quickly backed out of the salon and disappeared.

  Madison made the kind of face you might expect of someone embarrassed to catch you naked. “Oh gee.”

  A flush spread quickly through my entire being while I stared at the envelopes. The Law Offices of Bergen & Hardwell. The envelopes might as well have been pistols for how uncomfortable I was holding them. My friendship had come to a lawsuit. Objectively, it made sense: the American way of dealing with injuries. But friends suing friends broke a little piece of my faith in everything.

  “What’s that?” Rowan’s sharp gaze stuck to me.

  I didn’t want to get into it in front of a client. With a forced smile, I said to Madison, “Well, I sure hope you’re headed out tonight to show off your hairdo.”

  “Yes, I should get going.” She waved nervously. “Good luck with . . . everything.”

  I nodded, tears looming behind my eyes. “See you next month.”

  Stupid chirpy reply. Although barely treading water, I couldn’t crumble in front of a client or my son.

  “Okay,” she said before leaving us alone.

  I slipped the envelopes into my purse to read later. “Let’s get moving, Rowan.”

  “Are you being sued?” He sat straight up in his chair.

  This was not the conversation I wanted to have right before dropping him with his father for the weekend, but it couldn’t be avoided. “Apparently we both are.”

  “Both?” His eyes flew open and shone with confused anger as he rose off the seat. “Why am I being sued?”

  I made a “pump the brakes” gesture. “Probably negligence for hosting the party where Carter got hurt.”

  “But I’m already paying for that with the dumb job and fines and stuff.” His attitude needed further adjustment, but I didn’t have another lecture in me. This was a lot for anyone to process, let alone a teenager.

  “This is different. It’s a civil suit, not a criminal one. The Phillipses are hoping to recover some of the expenses of Carter’s care.” The calmness of my tone came from my expecting this but belied a sudden queasiness. Hopefully, Carter would be coming home in another two weeks, if the original six-week rehab schedule still held.

  “Why is Mrs. Phillips being such a bitch?”

  “Whoa, Rowan!” I frowned. “No cursing. And don’t disrespect Grace, no matter how mad or confused you feel. Her family is in a world of pain, and Carter’s care is superexpensive.”

  Not that I agreed with this solution, but I understood where she was coming from. And I expected my son to respect my friend—former friend? My stomach tightened.

  He glared at me as if pissed off that I wasn’t angry on his behalf. “I don’t have any money, so why sue me?”

  Neither did I, not that I said so. “Our homeowners policy will cover us.” Assuming the payout didn’t exceed my policy limits. “I’m sure they sued everyone involved. I’ll know more when I read the paperwork, but right now let’s go so your dad doesn’t chew me out for being late. But, honey, this lawsuit is exactly why you shouldn’t drink anymore. Do you understand?”

  He grunted and grabbed his bag. “I hate this.”

  So did I, but not for the reasons my son did. “At least you get to spend the weekend in Annapolis.”

  Thank God Dirk hadn’t canceled. Rowan would escape the inferno of Potomac Point for two days. Of course, John and Deshaun would be texting him soon enough.

  We got in my car and headed toward Route 2. Dirk would probably gloat about my getting sued. To think that we’d been in love once upon a time . . . Now he got off on threatening me and making me feel like crap. Meanwhile, he’d been the cheater, not me. I didn’t deserve the way he talked to me, and I was as sick of it as I was of the gossips. “Rowan, can I ask a big favor?”

  “What?”

  “Can you not mention this to your dad?”

  “You want me to lie?” His brows shot up.

  “No.” Yes, actually. “I need a day to get my arms around this before he questions me.” As soon as I said that, I knew it was wrong. If my son needed to talk to his dad about being sued, he should be able to do so. “On second thought, never mind. You go ahead and talk to him if you need to.”

  I considered mentioning Dirk’s custody threat so Rowan wouldn’t inadvertently answer probing questions in a way that could hurt me. But Rowan was upset enough now, so I wouldn’t add to his burden. Another mistake, probably. Damn, I really had no instinct for self-preservation. I hoped someday Rowan would understand how much I’ve always loved him and tried my best to do right by him.

  I could picture Dirk’s smug smile as he added this lawsuit to his pile of evidence against me. If I’d been alone in the car, I would’ve pulled over and bawled. How much more humiliation, expense, and rejection would I face before this situation was all said and done?

  On Sunday, I sat in my car in front of the East Beach Café, debating the wisdom of this lunch date. Life had been tossing lemons at me left and right.

  Friday night, Jordan’s frantic Facebook rant seeking recommendations of good lawyers made this mess public, adding another layer of humiliation to my life. Meanwhile, I’d accept whomever my insurance carrier suggested, while hoping my annual premiums didn’t increase much.

  I had no reason to believe today’s Valentine’s lunch would go anywhere but south. I would have blown it off if Officer Martinez hadn’t been one of the few people who’d been good to me—who’d seen good in me—since this whole mess started.

  Shaking my head, I then glanced in the rearview mirror to reapply a little lip gloss. The boardwalk was empty; the blustery day whipped up tiny whitecaps across the turbulent bay. My hair got tossed by the breeze when I hauled myself out of my car. I stared at the front door and sighed.

  Pasting a smile that I didn’t quite feel on my face, I swung the door open and nearly tripped over Officer Marti—er, Rodri—who was waiting for me near the hostess stand with a single red rose in hand.

  “Oh, hi. Sorry to make you wait.” I tucked the loosened curls behind my ears. “Even when I’m looking forward to something, I always seem to run a little late.”

  He smiled, handing me the rose. “No problem. I’m just glad you showed up. I was starting to wonder . . .”

  “Oh, heavens no. I’m not rude . . . only tardy.” I grinned with a helpless shrug, my stomach a tangle of flutters. I dipped my nose into the bud. “Thank you for this. It’s lovely.”

  “You’re welcome.” Rodri turned to the hostess. “We’re all set. Can we have a table by the windows?” Then he looked at me. “Unless that makes you chilly. My friend Erin isn’t a fan of window tables in the winter.”

 
“We might as well enjoy the view.” The bay glittered amid stark surroundings on sunny winter days. Maybe its fierceness would energize me for the fight on the horizon.

  The young hostess was making cow eyes at Rodri and nearly giggled as she led us to our table. Lord, it was like being with Tony again. Grace wouldn’t encourage this, not that I should care so much about her opinions anymore. But I’d been burned before. If this went anywhere, I’d be competing with girls half my age while also baiting the gossip mill.

  The hostess handed us our menus before sashaying away.

  “What’s wrong?” Rodri asked as we took our seats. Being a cop made him observant.

  “Oh, nothing. My mind wandered.” I recovered with a smile and scanned the plastic menu, stealing little peeks at him while he studied his.

  “How’s your son?” Rodri leaned forward after he set down his menu.

  “Better than his mama.” As soon as those words left my mouth, I wrinkled my nose. It might’ve been wiser to reschedule this date to a time when I had a better grip on my life. And if Dirk found out about Rodri, Lord help me.

  “Sorry to hear that. The repercussions will take a while to quiet down. I wasn’t a saint in high school, but as a cop I’ve seen teen drinking end up badly too many times. It’s a shame alcohol is always a big part of the high school social scene.”

  “Preach. One reason I’d been permissive is because I didn’t want to be a hypocrite.”

  “I hear that a lot, but there’s a difference between being a hypocrite versus having matured and come to recognize the danger involved.” He offered another warm smile. “It’d be hypocritical to tell your kid he should never drink if you party every night. But teaching him to respect the law and the risks of teen drinking isn’t hypocritical.”

  “I never thought of it that way. But in any case, I should apologize right now because I’m usually pretty sunny, but the squeeze of this nightmare is wearing me down. Carter’s injury is the worst of it, for sure. Rowan’s criminal hearing was a little scary, but then on Friday I got served with a negligence suit. On top of that, I’m losing customers over this, so I’m stressed to the max.” When he didn’t run for the door, I added the most painful part of all. “And underneath all that, I miss my friend.” I didn’t bring up Dirk because dating rule number one was “don’t discuss your ex.”